Castle's
by BlackAndWhiteArmy
Summary: A man has to deal with the war in his mind. A man has to hurt his family to cope with the demons. Like a castle with strong walls, he makes sure that nothing could break through his defense. When that man finds himself in a place he does not belong. Can another (whose mind may be similar) help him break down those walls or will the defense of the castle lead to self discovery?
1. To Cry

Hello. Before you read this story let me tell you that this was placed in the Assassin's Creed section for a reason. There is no mistake when you look into this story and wonder, why? This does not belong here. What does this have to do with Assassin's Creed? Okay, I wanted to put my own feel into this and have a man find himself in a place that is not home. Kind of like self discovery and growth with his problems about the war that he had come from. It will be different than what most like to read out of this fandom. This will take place in the modern era before we take ourselves into the time of the crusades. Yes, this will take place in the first game. This chapter and the next couple will focus on the man who will go back in time without knowing how or why he is there in the first place. Trust me, it will make sense later on. Until then I hope you enjoy my story and let me know what you think.

* * *

**Fairfield, Pennsylvania: December 04, 2004**

**Retired Specialist David Webster**

**Medical Discharged From The United States Army**

**Homecoming Day- First Day**

The ride home was a silent one. Passing by were the trees of the wooded area and the sound of the engine from the old beat down truck. The wildlife around the area were nowhere to be seen. Geese flew in a V-shaped group heading towards the east. Deer were seen in a quick flash walking about for something to eat. The radio was low with some crappy pop song playing. Nonsense lyrics about God-knows-what with some upbeat tune that made even a cynic want to turn it off. Tuning out the song only to focus out the window where the trees seemed to move. Snow was lightly falling against the window of the truck. Touching the glass, the snow melted into a liquid; sliding down or blowing against the wind. Heat from the air conditioning warmed their bodies knowing that winter had already started. Home was just a few more miles through curved roads and hills. Cars passed by in a caution slow motion. This was the time of year many would look forwards too. Christmas was weeks away. Families were making plans to visit. Holiday gifts were being requested or had been wrapped in paper with designs of snow or Santa Claus. The tree would soon be up with the lights and at the top of that tree, an angle or star would be the center piece.

It was to be a happy reunion with feasts; talking of old time stories. Children running amuck pulling pranks on one another or requesting to open a present very early. Three long years have changed that. Emotions were kept locked away. At the wheel she kept catching glimpses of her passenger who was looking out at the window. In the reflection of the window of her passenger, black eyes looked to the passing trees. There was a thoughtful look that reflected back to the image on the other side. In black eyes that once held laughter, emotions, now only pain and sorrow captured the look of a twenty-five year old. The passenger has not said a word since arriving at the airport. There were no hugs; not even a kiss on the cheek. Only a lone figure who looked lost with people passing him by. He felt alone.

Her hands held the wheel tightly. She wanted to cry, but she just could not show it. Three years of waiting to hear that call to come. A voice or a knock at the door telling her that her husband had been killed in Afghanistan. What would she tell her daughter? How would she handle taking care of themselves? Luckily, that knock at the door did not bare the news of death. The passenger sitting quietly with eyes looking out the window was her husband, but it was not her husband. Something in him had been killed. He was no longer the same man she married before he was deployed for three years. Now all that was left was just a shell. A shell that had closed himself off to the world around him.

Coming up a driveway to a small home that was built in the early 1900's, she had stopped the truck and turned it off. At the door she could see three figures coming out in the coats as the smallest of the three came running down the small steps. Her husband did not speak when a shine in his eyes recognized the small figure running as fast as her little legs could bring her. He opened the door letting the cool air in. Small steps were taken towards the small girl who wore her coat with a flower pattern. Bouncing curls underneath a hat and her face flushed red, screaming with laughter towards her father. Bending to one knee he quickly placed his arms around the little girl.

"Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" She shouted with delight.

He did not say a word to his little girl. His wife had come out of the truck with his belongings in a duffel bag. All remnants of his military life were only his clothes, a few ribbons, even a purple heart or two; but he did not need them. Too many memories that needed to be locked away until the time came where he needed to face what had happened overseas. Right now, he stood to his full height with his little girl in his arms. A small smile (a fake smile) had found it's way to his lips. The pain that caused him to show that emotion was for his little girl. He did not want her to see him hurt.

The two figures that had come out with the little girl were his wife's parent's. This small home had belonged to them. When he was deployed, his wife found it best to live with them until he came home. Observing his surroundings made him feel open. Somewhere out there in the forest his mind could see movement. Images flashed quickly of the desert sand blowing against his face with the enemy shooting live ammo at his patrol. Closing his eyes tightly shut, then opening them to see nothing was there. Looking to the old home he noticed something that was there. On the porch was a banner with large letter's welcoming him home.

"I made it myself." Mused his daughter with a large smile not knowing that moments before he father was lost in his own mind. She kept a hold around him when he placed the smile on his face to the banner.

"It's beautiful."

* * *

Inside the warm home, David had let his daughter down. Annie was talking fast about how cold the weather was becoming. She had also said how Gettysburg was a large playground with statues and even the candy store in town had many good sweets. Of coarse when he was overseas, David would receive letter's from his wife and her parents talking about how Annie loved to go to the battlefield and look at the large area with curious eyes. On some occasion phone calls about how he was doing overseas had to be cut short, but three months before had been the toughest for David emotionally and physically.

"Daddy. Are you okay?" Annie asked feeling sad. David looked to his daughter. Seeing the frown on her face. Debbie (his wife's mother) noticed the sudden change from the living room and walked towards them.

"He is fine, Annie. Your father just needs to adjust to coming back home." She assured the small girl. "Come, let us take off your coat and begin making dinner, okay."

Annie looked to her grandmother and that frown turned into a smile. "Can we make noodles. Daddy needs to warm up from his long trip."

Debbie lightly smile. Taking Annie's hand in her she glanced at her son-in-law. "Take all the time to adjust. You must be tired from being away for so long."

"Thank you, Debbie." David said. The two family member's turned their backs to him to head into the kitchen. Sighing lightly, David turned to head back outside. He did not feel all that welcome or was it because he did not want to feel the love that was given to him by his daughter? Closing the door he walked to the rails and placed his hands on the aging wood.

Breathing in the cool December air to clear his mind, the trees around the house were stripped of their leaves for the season. The snow continued to fall lightly. All around him he could feel himself slipping away from a once normal life. Everything began to shake and move in a blur. His hands tightened against the wood with eyes closed. He could hear them. He could see them. The ringing sound coming back to him. His ears remembering the sound of ammo falling down in the Humvee. Shrapnel bouncing off hitting a soldier or two.

"David." He felt a hand touch his shoulder. Out of instinct and reaction to the image of a Afghan with a rifle held ready to fire, he quickly turned not knowing whose wrist he held tightly.

"David, you're hurting me." Snapping out of his daze he knew that voice. Jane (his wife) had tears forming in her brown eyes.

"Sorry. I-" He quickly let her wrist go from his grip. She took a step back from him as if he were a monster. The look in her eyes was only out of fear and hurt. David closed his mouth. He rushed past her without making further eye contact. Jane had her back against the wall looking to her husband or the shell of her husband. A tear rolled down her cheek. Moments later she was sobbing.

Stepping down the stairs, the door had opened and closed behind him. David had walked in a fast pace to get away for a moment. The time to think. The time to clear his mind. They said that he was fine. They said that he had nothing wrong with him. His wounds have healed, but were still tender in some places. It was not the problem with his outward appearance, it was inside of his mind that was the main problem. Flashbacks. Images. It was driving him to blackout and not know what had happened. He had almost crushed his wife's wrist with his strength.

He found a tree to lean on. The sound of a passing car against the gravel of road paid him no mind. Behind him he could hear the sound of footsteps against the rocks and leaves that had falling. Once again instinct and protection had taken over. He waited for the person to come up behind him. He could feel the anxiety dwell in his chest. His heart beat against him.

One. Two. Three.

Turning around he saw an older man. Adam held up his hands with the palms facing David. "Calm down, David. I am not here to hurt you."

David closed his eyes. Taking in a deep breath he was calmed with the anxiety slowly fading. Tense muscles were still on guard, but he could feel a strain in his left shoulder. Opening his eyes to Adam, the older man lowered his arms slowly. He knew what David was going through. He knew about the constant alert. He knew about the flashbacks, because truth be told, Adam was a Vietnam veteran. A former marine who saw war and all of it's horror.

"You saw what happened, did you?" David asked not sure how to feel.

"I saw." David lightly flinched. Adam sighed and continued. "You did not hurt her, luckily. I had told her to make sure not to sneak up behind you or let Annie try to do unnecessary things. I do not want you to have to hurt your own family."

"What am I to do? Jane had a look in her eyes. I was about to snap at her, but I had restrained myself. I am afraid next time she will not be so lucky." There was distress in his voice. His back had found the tree he was leaning on moments earlier. The cool air and the clouds of grey was indication that snow was to fall heavy.

"What you saw out there, it is hard to forget. Now that you are home with us is like feeling like an outsider. You are stuck in your own head. Fighting that war that continues to flash in and out. When someone tries to calm you, you do not know the difference between what you see in your mind." Adam placed his hands in the pockets of his coat. "I had a discussion with Debbie and Jane. It is best you see a psychiatrists-"

"-and have them tell me I am not fit to live a normal life?" David interrupted. "They do not know what I saw out there or what I had been through for the past month's. Am I to go to confess and they tell me to take medication to calm myself and live like a zombie? Is that what you did after you came back from Vietnam?"

"It was a different time, David. I still live with those memories and I know what it could do to families. I do not want to have my daughter live an unhappy life knowing her husband and the father our her child is living the flashbacks of war!" Adam shouted.

"It was a different time, indeed. I am not ready to face what I had seen yet. Let me do this on my own Adam. Let me try to recover without help from some shrink that think crying and bitching would solve all problems." David pushed himself off the tree. His dark eyes looked solemnly towards his father-in-law. The older man could not force David to go. He understood. Nodding his head with defeat he turned around to head back into the house.

"If it gets worse, David, you will have to go see that shrink. He specializes in our condition. Flashbacks, images, violent thrashing against loved ones. Please go before it's too late." With defeat in his voice, Adam walked off leaving David to suffer in the war in his mind.

* * *

**Read and Review please.**


	2. Closing Days

**December 10th, 2004**

**3:45 PM**

**Evaluation of Retired Specialist David Webster**

**Status: Has Anxiety, Stress, Depression, Insomnia- Further Evaluation Still Needed...**

**Conclusion: Unknown **

He paced back and fourth with impatience baring heavily on his conscience. Feet shuffling on the rug; trying to find a way out of this man-made building. The room felt like it was closing in on him. He could feel the walls moving, shaking the ground beneath him. A blur of movement caused him to stop before the window. His breathing was heavy and his face flushed like something was trying to suffocate him. He felt trapped in a world that had it's hands tightly around his neck. Tighter and tighter the invisible hands squeezed. Closing his eyes to keep the feeling down, he had to take a slow breath of air. His only comfort was the window at the far side of the room. It was were a plant was growing and were it fed off the sun. Comfort is what he was trying to find. David wanted comfort.

Outside the window the sun was barely visible due to the grey sky. Snow had fallen heavily with the temperature outside barely in the upper 40's. Unaffected by this behavior a woman sat in a chair. She was watching silently. She was observing the behavior of her new patient. The way he walked with an impatient look. He was stressed from the tense in his muscles and the fear was building in his mind. She has seen this once before under different circumstances. Behavior under pressure was beyond something fearful for this man. She has seen his record. She knew what she was going to have to do. The only question, was he willing to speak now or wait until he collapses underneath the weight of flashbacks?

"It would do you some good, David, if you sit down." She asked in a smooth tone. Her eyes looking down to the notepad in her lap. Writing quickly before she turned back her attention on the man who had opened his tired eyes and had focused out the window. "Are you anxious about something?"

David turned his attention to the woman in the chair. She was an older woman with fine lines making her look the age of maybe fifty. Glasses, hair in a bun, wearing something formal- yep, she was a psychiatrist. "This was a mistake coming here." He finally said.

"Why do you say that?" The psychiatrist raised a brow to him. Her pen in hand tapping lightly against the chair. She was waiting for David to answer her, but she knew that this type of condition takes it's time. She did not want to rush the man who has just come home from the war. It was a delicate matter to speak about what soldier's saw or had been through.

"It's a bunch of bullshit. You and those who have some fancy degree believe you can help people- soldier's like me- get through the flashbacks and try to cope to live some normal life. You want us to talk freely. To sit down crying our eyes out while you and all like you sit there with no expression on your faces. Writing down every little detail and declare us to be unfit to walk in society." David expressed loudly. His movements of his hands copying his emotions.

"I am not here to pass judgment on you, David. My job is to listen to my patients. My job also entitles me to check on the status of your psyche. Seeing as you do not trust me because you are becoming hostile, I have to continue observing you. If I find you to be in danger to yourself or others, it is my duty to make sure that you get the proper treatment." She stated as David walked away from the window with arms crossed. He stopped just a few paces away feeling like some animal in a zoo waiting to be put under scientific research for all to see.

"I do not need an ear to cry too. I do not need to have my brain and mental state questioned. The only people to understand what I had seen and been through are those who were there. Those who fought in wars have that experience. Excuse me, _Doc_, but I am not ready to face those demons." David walked past the woman not wanting to stay in the room any longer. It was to be an hour long session, but thirty minutes had passed without any progress. David had ignored or spat against the questions being asked. She called out his name, but he ignored it once he walked out the door leaving the older woman to blink on the events that had just happened.

On the other side of the office, Jane stood up quickly when she saw her husband walk out with haste in his stride. The door slammed loudly making the man lightly jump from the noise. Frames that were hanging on the walls vibrated. People who were waiting looked to the man from above their magazines in their hands. Some had talked in low whisper's. The receptionists at her desk stopped talking and finger's were above the keyboard. David had caused a scene. Yet, he did not have the slightest regret. Flashes caused his eyes to blur. The sound of a bullet whistling past him caused David to keep still. The ground began to shake under him again. He spoke no words to his wife nor did he look at her in his state. Jane was about to speak with an open mouth, but no words came out of her mouth.

The waiting room was deathly silent. David was shaking lightly when the flashes faded. The people sitting did not know what to do or what to say to ease the situation. They knew nothing about David's state of mind. Not wanting to be around eyes that passed judgment, Jane watched with worry as her husband walked to the exit.

...

Nothing could break the tension. Nothing could be formed in either mind. Inside of the old truck both husband and wife sat quietly. David at the passenger side with Jane in the driver's side. The heater warming up the truck with snow falling again. People were barely out in the town due to the winter season and the tourists were gone until the spring and summer time where the weather was warm and humid. To David it felt like a ghost town. A town with history and death. Jane sighed glancing over to David wanting to speak to him. Her focus had to be on the road because of it's dangers and she did not want to have her husband lash out from one of his flashbacks.

"What do you want me to do?" David said. Coming to see a psychiatrist that specialized with homecoming soldier's that had war memories may have been a mistake, but it was also worth a try. He thought he could talk about what had happened overseas. He thought maybe with a bit of faith he could find some cure or answers. But all David found was another person waiting to call him unfit to himself and a danger to others around him. Faith was something that had been lost to David. What was faith going to do? It did not cure. It did not cover him with security like a warm blanket.

"I don't know, David. Speak to me so I can understand how I can help you." Jane stated with worry in her voice. The truck was slowly passing by buildings and stopping at turns and red lights.

"Why does everyone want to help? I do not need it right now." David looked out the window with his arm on the door handle. They were heading back to Jane's parent's house. The man was not sure how long they were going to stay there, but her parent's insisted on their stay for as long as David could cope with civilian life. So far, the past few day's have been hell for everyone. "Worry about your own selves rather than me. I will be fine. Just give me time to breath on my own."

And it was showing.

"Maybe you do not need help... now, but since you have been home you barely sleep. You worry me constantly when you are looking out the window waiting for something to happen. You jump to loud noises. Even Annie is beginning to become afraid of you. She needs her father and I need my husband. My father watches you closely waiting for you to snap out of your daze. You say not to worry. David, you are my husband. We had vows to take care if one of us is not able to do it themselves. Stop trying to push us away. What had happened to you overseas was not your fault. What you have seen was your choice and what you did, you could not go against higher than you."

"It is not easy to cope with this, Jane. How long did it take your father to keep the flashbacks from ruining his life? Over there where the fighting get's worse soldier's have to do what they are told. I know it was my choice to see them, but I was not expecting to be discharged. I said something to the doctor and bam... I am out. It was like what had happened to your father. Now look where it got him. He is on medication; something I do not wish to take." David closed his eyes tiring of the same conversation that has been of annoyance since his return. Those around him worried for his mental state. He understood that they would go out of their way to support him. Right now it was tough to be smothered by too much love. It was not going to fix him.

The rest of the ride home was in silence. The radio was not even on. Jane felt lost not truly knowing what she was going to do. Giving up now would not help her husband. It has been a few day's since David has returned to the states. No one expected it to be easy. No one expected it to be hard. Her husbands relationship with their daughter was a slow process. What Jane had said about Annie being afraid of her father was true. The little girl could not enjoy the loud laughter of a child without having David telling her to quiet herself. Annie could not even sneak up on David without having the man turn around quickly with a look that scared her. Jane feared David would someday be a danger, but she was not going to voice out her worries to him.

Adam had been in David's boots. The older man lived with nightmares. There was even some events he has yet to speak about many years later. Jane had grown up with having her father enduring the same mental state as David. Jane did not want to have her daughter not know her father or be afraid of him, like she had once been. David had changed and no one was asking him to talk. They only wanted to help him through the process of self recovery. She knew it takes time for one to cope. She was afraid that her husband was already too far gone. It was still too early to say if David would recover. She could only pray.

* * *

"Is daddy going to be okay?" Annie asked her grandfather out of innocent curiosity.

Both were sitting at the table in the kitchen putting together a puzzle of what seemed to be a meadow of some ancient land. It was half-way finished with missing pieces still needed to be found. Inbetween his fingers was a puzzle piece that needed to be placed in it's proper place. Adam tried to linger on the question. Annie had placed her elbows on the table with a small frown on her face. Debbie was stirring some chicken on the frying pan listening to her granddaughter. The smell of the herbs filtering through the house made her stomach grumble.

"He will be okay, Annie. Your father just needs time to... get used to everything around him." Adam said placing the puzzle piece in it's proper place. The young girl picked up a piece and found (or so she thought) a perfect place for it. "You have to remember."

"Remember what?"

"Your father has been away for three years. A lot has changed. Imagine if you were gone for those three years. Would you expect everything and everyone around you to be the same?" The look on the young girl's face turned into confusion. Her head cocked to the side.

"Changed?"

He could hear Adam trying to speak in a way Annie could understand. The way she spoke about him was a bit upsetting. She did not understand what was going on, but she could see the pain and sorrow. The confusion when she wanted to play with her father. David had felt empty and out of place. When she would hide he feared being shot down. When she would sneak up behind him he feared he was going to be taken prisoner. Annie did not know what she doing was causing flashbacks to form in his mind. She was just a small child doing innocent play like any other child. David had to place a barrier between himself and those who want to be around him.

Annie was seeing the change. She was scared of her own father. She barely wanted to be around him without having her mother to hide behind. David shook his head not wanting to feel that anxiety dwell in his chest. With that anxiety came the flashbacks. Moving away from the kitchen area he almost ran into his wife who had just come out of the shower. Walking past her, David went into the restroom that was still foggy and warm from the shower.

Closing the door and locking it, he took in a deep breath. In through the nose and out through the mouth. He repeated this process for a few moments. Once he was able to control his high anxiety David walked over to the sink. Turning on the sink to let the water fall into the drain, he took in a scoop full of water. The liquid was falling through the cracks in his fingers. Wetting his face with the cool water. David turned off the sink. Hearing the sound of the water go down the drain he looked up to the mirror that was still fogged. The reflection of himself showed. Tired eyes with bags under them.

Breathing deeply with a racing heart, David could feel his balance slipping. Knees were buckling underneath him. Shaking with his hands on the side of the sink. His eyes looked to his own reflection to the man he was now. Something blurred the reflection. The humid air on the mirror began to disappear before him. David could barely see his surroundings. His mouth had become dry. The walls were closing in on him like they did at the office of the psychiatrist. The weight of his shaking knees made him fall to the ground. A loud thud from his body hit something making it shatter. He could not move a single muscle in his body. No words could come from his mouth. His mind was yelling at him to call out for help. Something was wrong. It was not the flashbacks causing this. It was something strong. Something unseen. The last thing David could remember was hearing the yell of his wife banging on the door to let her in.

* * *

**Review Please.**


	3. On The Daylight

There was something in the morning sky. Grey clouds had covered the sun in a omen that no one could understand. Mist had began to roll over the mountains that seemed to be magical if not ancient. They say that the lands belonged to them. Others choose to believe that the land did not belong to them. Two rider's set out for today's patrols on the border's of the mountains where their fortress had stood strong for centuries. Hidden from view, but many armies had once tried to penetrate it. Hoods the shape of beaks shadowed their faces, but one could make out strong features and tan skin. They wore light armor with swords and knives on their persons. Their horses were sleek made for the terrain of the area. One rode a white horse with grey spots and the other rode a horse that was brown. One of the rider's had set out before his partner when he saw something (or in this case someone) lying still on his side.

"_Is he alive_?" The second rider had asked in an Arabic tongue. The rider on the grey horse looked behind him to his comrade.

"_Let us find out for ourselves_." He said not sure of himself. From the distance they were at it was hard to figure out if the figure was breathing. Exposed flesh could be deceiving to the untrained eye. It could lead to trickery when someone was dead or alive.

Pulling the reigns on his horse the animal neighed as it's rider placed his own two feet on the ground. The animal snorted while backing away slightly from it's rider. The other had done the same with his horse standing still. His horse flicked it's tail against it's strong legs. The scene was strange for both men who had took precaution for they did not know if this was some trick. War had made more enemies than friend. Each side of the battlefield was after the hooded men and those like them. Stories had ventured from different tongues throughout the Holy lands to the lands of the French and English. The king of Christian heretics had heard of these hooded men all the way down to Saladin. A hand was placed on the hilt of a sword and eyes observed the surrounding area.

No sign of danger. In this early light only animals stirred. Still, both men were not going to take chances. They have been trained to keep vigilance on their surroundings. Years of training by their ancient order made these men and those like them a dangerous enemy. Silent like the foxes but sharp like hawks. It was not the weapons they carried in broad daylight, it was what they hid that made them dangerous. Feet were stalking slowly towards the figure when the foreigner began to stir as if awakening from his slumber. The man moaned in pain feeling the dirt against his exposed skin.

'_Something is not right_!' The man had opened his eyes causing the two hooded men to draw out their swords and the horses stomped their hooves against the ground. One flick of the wrist would expose their hidden weapon. The man's body was shaking trying to understand what was happening around him. Frantic eyes looked back and forth with two swords pointing in his direction.

"_Tie him down_! _He could be dangerous_!" The man shouted to the other in their native tongue.

"_Dangerous_? _He is naked_!" The other retorted not taking his eyes off the foreigner.

David's breathing was becoming heavy not knowing what the two were speaking about. With the body language it was easy to assume that they were talking about him. Looking down to his person David's eyes widened with realization.

He was naked!

Trying to cover his shame one of the men walked forwards with his sword placed on David's neck. He dared not move for fear that the sharp weapon would pierce through skin. David was confused as where the two men who could not understand why or where he had come from. Better yet, why he was naked and lying on the ground? Dark eyes focused on something on the foreigner's exposed flesh. A strange marking of ink on his left shoulder. The two hooded figures have never seen something like it, but the symbol they have seen before on the Christian's. Not particularly on their skin. It had to do with their faith of their Lord that the symbol had been placed on shields, necklaces, and in their churches.

Curiosity had taken over rather than fear of the naked man. The two hooded men were not accustomed with such a thing nor was David so used to seeing their garment's. Bending to one knee, with sword still near the neck, a hand outstretched to touch the skin. Rough calloused fingers seemed to trace David's tattoo indicating that these men never seen such. It made David wonder rather than act out of fear. If he would have moved or try to attack than nothing would be gained. These men were not modern era soldier's. In fact, these men were not soldier's at all from the looks of it. Modern day weapons did not consist of blades and swords (unless as a last resort). Horses were no longer used unless these men were farmer's or ranchers (again unless as a last resort).

"Where am I?" David asked slowly moving his shoulder out of the man's reach.

The man holding his sword to David's neck looked to him with confusion. The strange language that had come out of quivering lips- never has the two hooded men heard such a thing.

"_What did he say_?" The other asked.

"_I do not know. He speaks a different tongue like those crusaders. It is best we take him to the master. He may know what to do and how to communicate with this foreigner._" Standing back to his full height, the man kept his eye's on David. The other hooded figure seemed to oblige as he walked backwards towards his horse. His hand still grasping his sword, his free hand began searching for his back where he pulled out a blanket.

Once he had the object, David kept still when he saw the blanket being thrown to him. These men could not communicate in a common tongue. In what place he found himself, David could already see the problem that was going to be a true obstacle: language.

* * *

They traveled for hours with the sun high above the mountains. David holding tight to the blanket over his shoulder's. Shivering lightly with eyes scanning the high mountains with an eagle soaring above them like some animal guide of old. The cool morning air was crisp and clean without the smell of pollution. Even the grass was greener, yet David still could not comprehend how or why he was here in such a strange land. There was nothing modern about this place. All seemed to be stuck in a world before the time of machinery and all things modern. The conclusion that David could muster was that somehow he had traveled backwards in time. How? David was not a man of science rather he was a man of action. Years of training told him to stay calm and adjust. Focus on the surroundings and figure out a way to escape.

It seemed useless. Logic was reason to David. There was no possible way that he could have been transported back in time. He could be in a coma or he died in Afghanistan, but nothing made sense. A mental breakdown! Of coarse, it made the most sense. No, it did not. The pain he felt was real. The figure were real in his eyes. The chill was real. He sighed looking to the man he was riding with. This was not possible. Time travel was not real!

He focused on the mountains to ease his troubled mind. Maybe he had to come to the possibilities that God hated him. A mental breakdown from the stress at adjusting to life. The war. He needed to calm himself or else he would have the flashbacks.

With such a scenery like the fresh clean air all had to come to a stop when large wooden gates appeared. With the horses secured at their stables outside the gates, the two hooded men pulled at David to walk forwards with the blanket secured tightly around his person. Both of the men had not spoken one word of English. Back and forth they spoke in their Arabic tongue with eyes glancing back at their captive. They were just as lost not knowing how they were going to speak to David other than communicate through the use of their body and hands.

All around him, eyes had flocked to the two hooded men and their captive. Finger's pointed, women looked away from the man who only had a blanket over him, and much of the men wore similar hoods. They kept walking up hills not giving much of the villager's a chance to continue their stares. All around him hooded men walked at a much slower pace with finger's twitching. Something had glinted in the morning rays of one of the men who quickly retracted the strange glint into his sleeve. Braces of leather on each man's arm with a symbol David has never seen.

Up a hill where the villager's had ceased and only men with weapons of swords, daggers, knives, and braces, wore hood's of the same fashion and stood back letting David's captor's through. Through an archway they had stopped just above a set of beautiful stairs. The fortress was a perfection of clever hands that had built the place. Stone placed in expert places to make sure the fortress does not fall or crumble on itself. David could not help but feel amazed at such beauty that even the pyramids in Egypt could not compare. _This is no dream_. David had told himself time and time again.

"_Where is the master_?!" The man to David's right shouted. His echo vibrated off the walls ceasing all activity to stare at the returning men.

"_He is coming down from his library. The master had made sure that Altair, Malik, and Kadar were of knowledge of their mission._" Retorted a rather unamused man with arms folded across his chest.

David's two captors looked to each other knowing something he did not.

"_Abbas, do not let petty things get the better of you. Surely the master had his reason's to not let you go. Maybe you can gain his favor by taking this foreigner to him yourself or would you rather loathe in your misery like a pup_." The man (Abbas) had sneered at the two men with distaste. Abbas may have been the name in which David quickly learned out of the Arabic speech. The only name that made sense in his English speaking mind.

"_You speak to me with such a tongue, whelp? Your duties were to be lookouts at the border's._" Abbas walked towards the three man and spoke something once again in Arabic. David's two captor's snickered at what seemed to be their superior before Abbas kicked one of them down. His foot making contact with a knee. Drawing his sword in a show of strength, one of the men backed away slowly with wide eyes. They knew that this man was a danger and since he was of higher rank then most, Abbas was to strike when a voice from above the stairs ceased his yearning for bloodshed.

"_Hold your blade, Abbas. Striking with your sword would not put you in favor with the others. Would you rather face death or walk away from a crime that you do not want to commit_?"

David gulped down spit and let out a breath when the hooded men lowered their gazes with the bow of their heads. Abbas quickly turned himself around. Dropping his sword to the ground he too lowered his gaze and bowed his head. Not knowing what to do in such a display, David looked to the figure in black with a beard growing down to his chest.

"_What brings you two back from your patrols_?" The older man spoke with authority in his voice.

"_Forgive us master. Makin and myself were but a few miles out when we noticed this foreigner lying on the ground naked and unconscious._" The man said not looking to his superior.

The older man walked down the stairs with his eyes locked on David's shaking form. Hooded men in his path moved back without looking up. When the man had stopped in-front of David, older eyes looked to him. The superior man could see a mixture of many features. A nose that looked Roman, but the foreigner had sun kissed skin. He was rather tall with hair the color of night: black. Cut short in a fashion not familiar in this region. Clean shaven with features strong in his jaw line and his neck rather 'fat' like some brute. This man was mixed like some mutt.

"_Who are you_?" The superior man spoke.

David kept his mouth closed. Again the superior spoke but David was not sure what he was saying.

"_He does not speak our language master_." Makin spoke keeping his eyes lowered.

The superior seemed to consider the options when he again spoke to David. Nothing came out clear for him to understand. Instead, the superior had raised his hands knowing that the language barrier had to be taken down by the use of the body and hands.

"_Al Mualim_." He said slowly for David to grasp.

Al Mualim then pointed to David with an aging finger. "David."

It was only than could David look closely at these men. Each had something mission. Each had missing ring finger's.

'_Where am I_?'

* * *

**Please Review**


	4. A Broken Silence

_The sun was rising in the east of the third day. The heat of the day made sweat run down their backs as they kept moving forwards. Lips were dry and cracked. Water had to be savored until all were out of the area. There was no stopping in such a hostile place deemed a **'Red Zone'**. Each man was worried as they set foot inside the abandoned house just miles away to their extraction point. That worry had to be placed behind a cold hard mask. Sand moved in the air as their boots made no sudden noise except for the items placed on their persons. They knew that time was short as many of the residents in the area would be up for the morning prayer. If they were caught then the mission would fail. No one would make it home. No one would see their loved ones again._

_Moving steadily with haste, each soldier kept their eyes on certain points within the building. One man would keep check in the front while the other (who was in the back) would stay behind a few feet away before he too would catch up to the rest of the squad when he saw that no one was near. Those in the middle waited for command from their Sergeant to either move on or wait until all seemed to be calm. It depended on what was being seen or heard within the perimeter. So far there was no movement, not even a desert scorpion was seen scuttling along the sands. Though it did not mean it was safe to lower one's guard._

_Slow and steady breathing kept one's heart calm. If panic was to stir than all would be in jeopardy. This mission was going to be a success. Get out of the **Red Zone **and meet with the other group. It sounded easy when he spoke it. But nothing would be easy with a mission like this. Guards were always on patrol making sure American forces were kept in their bounds. If the Americans were seen crossing through their border's than permission to execute was ordered. Eyes were peeled on the door at the far end showed some movement. The shadows were walking slowly as every man halted with weapons raised. The leader of the group placed his hand up in a signal. Hearts beat at each step when the shadow had stopped. Finger's kept steady near their trigger's. _

_Thump... Thump... Thump..._

_The crackle of a loud speaker broke through the silence as the shadow turned out to be a man who was saying the days prayer for all to hear._

* * *

**Masyaf: fortress of the assassin brotherhood**

**Year-1191**

**Five Days After Finding David Webster On The Mountain**

The sound of the door opening alerted him quickly. Instinct took over with the fight or flight response. Sitting up on the bed with eyes glaring at the visitor, a woman stepped inside with a tray in her hands. She had gasped expecting to be attacked. Covered in a form of modesty called a 'Hijab' that was supposed to be worn by many Muslim women. A beautiful piece of culture that has been passed down even to the modern era. David has seen it many times before when he was in the middle east. Scared dark eyes with shaking hands causing the plate to rattle against the tray. David placed his hands up to indicate that he was not a danger to the woman.

He would not dare cause any harm. These people were careful around him and were always alert. David was the same way. Trust had to be earned even with the barrier of language. Women would keep their eyes to the ground not giving chance to make eye contact with him. Many had spoke to themselves about the foreigner with finger's pointed. The men were different. They were cautious at first. Keeping themselves as distant from David. The five days of his stay was difficult for him to bear. In a world where he could not understand nor could they understand him. The five days were torturous for his mind.

"_I have brought you food. Master Al Mualim has made promise that you are fed and dressed_." She said rather fast. David was not sure on what she said but the woman placed the tray on the ground and a pair of clothing that seemed to be clean was also placed on the ground next to the tray. Without so much as another word, the woman left the room leaving David to ponder on what just happened. Those five days had caused him much pain.

The nights did not come easy. Dreams of fighting and seeing death over and over again. The sound of bullets coursing through the air, bouncing off walls. The makings of a kill as those very bullets hit human bodies. Eyes were focused of running through the hellfire as no man would be left behind. David had to shake off those dreams. He was again alone in the room with the only ease was the sound of the wind blowing through the window. Another day in a place he was not firmiliar with. Another day in a time that was not modern.

He was given clothing to wear. Something simple and warm that was easy to fit over his frame. Boots were given to him to wear on his feet. A comfortable pair that was made for the terrain it seemed. Worn out on the sole of the feet. If memory was right, David has seen men in the fortress wear something of the like. Food and water maintained his hunger and thirst while he was kept in a room with only a bed to rest his aching body. A window was at the far end of that said room with the sun's rays passing through. Every so often he could hear the sound of footsteps. The men speak in their language other than English. David was stuck in this world. He was stuck in this time. Breathing in the smell of earth was fresh to his senses that were used to smelling air that was polluted.

This place was still unknown to him. The name had deluded his thoughts because his family were on his mind.

* * *

An hour has passed since the woman had brought him food and drink. His stomach was filled and his body was warm. With that hour passing, David had yet to have any human contact. He was becoming restless in the small room. Walking back and forth with hands on the back of his neck. Tense muscles tried to relax. The door was locked for good reason. David could not blame the people for being protective of one another. He would do the same if someone from this time found themselves in the modern era. For the second time in the day the door had opened and inside walked one of the many hooded men. What he had said was unclear, but the man's body language made clear for David to follow.

Contemplating on whether to heed the instructions, the former soldier decided against his values to follow. Leading the way through a large hallway with torches lighting the way, David had much understanding that he was in the lower part of the fortress. The 'dungeon area' where maybe they kept all who was a foreigner or worse case a prisoner. As far as David could tell he was just a foreigner who happened to be in the wrong place and time period. The hooded men were not hostile much to his relief. They treated him like one would treat a new species. Poking at his tattoo every chance the hooded men got and speaking to one another in their language. It was as if David was a different breed of human. The hooded man that was named Al Mualim had much to be curious about David.

The superior would often walk in circles around him. The older man would mumble in a low voice until he was done observing. Today, however, was going to be a different day. The hooded men were used to seeing David under such a regular base. With the language barrier, many had tried to communicate with him. Some days were frustrating, other days no one wanted to be around David. He was an outcast. As an outcast the man often found himself locked within his own mind. Thoughts of home... How was he going to get home? There was only so much use of the hands that could get beyond the barrier.

"_We are here_." The hooded man had said.

Lost in his own musings David was not aware that his feet had kept moving. As if a natural response to his surroundings the man had lead both of them up stairs. David's body seemed to be on autopilot as he had not tripped nor fallen. Somehow his body knew where to go and who to follow when he was stuck inside of his thoughts.

Looking up the stairs of the large fortress, David knew where 'here' was. It was the main area where large doors at the far end of the building led outside to a wonderful garden overlooking the mountains. The trees in full lush of green. Flowers of exotic beauty in bloom. The smell was intoxicating like a woman wearing perfume to the birds, insects, and those of man caught in her web. Inside the interior of the fortress was something different. Two stories full with many books and scholar's who read manuscripts for translation or simply wanted to continue their thirst for knowledge. David could not get used to seeing such a sight. Never in his life has he seen so many books other than the library, but this was no library. This was ancient. This was complete knowledge.

The man that had been leading him to this point could not go any further. Taking the hint that he needed to go up on his own, David took that first step up the stairs. Walking up and through halls he could hear the sound of Al Mualim talking. His voice echoing through the fortress as the hooded men and scholars continued doing their task not risking getting caught for their ears could hear the older man scold the person he was talking to.

David walked a little slower seeing someone staggering with their steps. He could hear the sound of his heavy breathing. The hooded figure held on to his bloody arm. Seeing this, David took affirmative action. Running to the man's side, David had caught the hooded man before he could hit the ground from exhaustion. Being cautious of the wound, David placed his hand on the man's unharmed shoulder to steady him. Grunting from the weight the hooded man did not care for the foreigner at the moment. There was fire in his eyes where his body may have been broken but the spirit inside of him was still determined. David did not understand what was happening when Al Mualim and another more clean looking hooded man turned their attention towards them.

"_I still live, at least,_" the wounded man spoke looking at the man that stood in-front of Al Mualim. The way he had said his words was like a growl. Blood had reeked through the robes onto David's fingers. The feeling was still warm causing David to flinch. Flashes of images passed through his memory and he had to quickly shake off that feeling. Now was not the time to go into a state which could cause David to lose all sense... and maybe be a danger to those around him.

"_And your brother_?" asked Al Mualim noticing the change within David.

For a moment there was silence among them. The wounded man shook his head with defeat. "_Gone_." David was not sure what he could do. The men seemed to have forgotten that he was there holding on to their 'brother' of the same robes and weapons. Without the understanding of their language, David had to be an observer. So far he could see the tenseness in each of the men before a trembling finger, the wounded man (whom David had head Al Mualim call 'Malik') pointed. "_**Because of you**_," he hissed at the more unharmed figure (named Altair).

"_Robert threw me from the room. There was no way back. Nothing I could do..._" The man retorted without much hesitation. David looked towards him not truly sure if he had imagined the unharmed figure to be believable. With the language difference, the body stance seemed defensive and twitchy.

"_Because you would not heed my warning_. _All of this could have been avoided. And my brother... my brother would still be alive. Your arrogance nearly cost us victory today_."

"_**Nearly**_?" said Al Mualim carefully.

David could feel the wounded man struggle to stand on his own. Al Mualim took careful caution when his eyes met that of David's for a split second. The English speaking man could not understand- that Al Mualim knew. The wounded man (Malik) gestured towards another assassin who was holding something within their hands.

"_I have what your favorite failed to find," _Said Malik.

The assassin set the tray on Al Mualim's desk. It was covered in something ancient that David has never seen such mastery; maybe in movies about ancient sites being discovered by fictional character Indiana Jones. The power that was within it was strong making David tense from it's strong power. Each man had felt that power course through their veins. Something strong was inside of it.

Their musings were short lived with the sound of steel clashing against steel.

"_It seems I have returned with more than just the treasure." _Malik stated.


End file.
